none for you

whose life is full of whole

totality….

so can you throw me crumbs of your love?

(PMs)

Ziti: kita mo na?
Blade: di pa
Ziti: tagal naman
Blade: ok na pretty ka pala. may asawa ka na?
Ziti: wala pa
Blade: bf?
Ziti: wala din ikaw?
Blade: wala pa. mahal na ata kita. ligawan kita ha
Ziti: nyahaha…papatawa ka ba?
Blade: sige na. binata naman ako cute pa… view mo ko gusto mo?
Ziti: sige nga, hmmmm. waffu ka nga…
blade: o ano tayo na?
Ziti: sige na nga…
Blade: love you
Ziti: love yah 2
Blade: may Vc ka? usap tayo
Ziti: wait kunin ko.
Blade: sige
Ziti: call ka na
Blade: ayaw eh. no voice chat found daw
Ziti: huh? ako try ko
Blade: k
Ziti: hello?
Blade: bat ganyan boses mo? babae ka ba?
Ziti: bading ako. ano ka ba!
Blade: shit!

            The trees are swaying. Liza can hear the rustle of the
leaves. But it cannot hide the voices of her parents quarreling in their room.
It has been like that since the day her mom discovered that her dad has another
family.

“What else is new?” 

The glow of the moon cannot veil the gloominess of the house in the
middle of nowhere. It has been six years since that night.

Liza can still remember vividly the look on her dad’s face when she and
her mom surprised him and his other family in the house he was renting for
them.

“Imagine I have sisters whom I do not know.” “Not just one but two.”

She smiled. A smile that cannot mask the hurt in her eyes. It pained her
that her dad chose to have another family.

“Why is he not contented with us? Mom loves him. I love him. Uhmm. Used
to love him. Not anymore.” 

Her mom.

She was a beautiful, elegant lady when dad married her. She was just
nineteen when he asked for her hand. Mom did not like dad. She thought dad was
just after her inheritance. It was grandpa who liked dad. He was adamant that
they be married. He thought dad was an angel who will look after mom. Well, he
was wrong. He had proven grandpa wrong when he started an affair with that
woman.

Well, there were instances in the past when one could mistake dad’s
actions for love. I admit he had made many sacrifices for mom …for me before
that night. In the end he gave up. He gave up easily. I was only sixteen then.

“Don’t tell me that it’s nothing. I saw you. We saw you.”

“You brought Liza?” You shouldn’t have brought her.”

“Why? So your image of a good and adoring father won’t be stained?”

“It’s not that Margareth. I am afraid for Liza. She is still young.”

“She is old enough to know that her dad is not faithful to her mom.”

“I am so sorry Margareth. But let us spare Liza. She is only a child.”

“She is not a child anymore. Six is old enough to know that her dad is
not adorable after all.”

Silence.

“Are you going to leave her?”

“You know I can’t do that now Margareth. Sylvia is already carrying my
child.”

“You bastard!” Tears. More tears.

I saw blood not tears. I kept it to myself. Red. Everything was red. No.
Those were tears not blood. No. They were blood. Stop it! Just stop! I screamed
but it was only the walls that silently mocked me. I stopped screaming. I
stopped talking. Even to them. Dad. Mom. My teachers. My friends. The walls.
But the walls had heard my silent scream for silence. I continued yelling
without words for ten years. Then I saw red again. In every corner of my
parents’ room, I SAW RED. I saw blood. Then tears. Tears from my own eyes. Then
SILENCE.

I have gone to the other room. My parents’ room. Mom is still elegant.
Dad is handsome. Though, they quarrel most of the times, they lie in bed
together at night. I like looking at them when everything is quiet. They are
not moving even when the leaves are rustling against the windowpane. They could
not move anymore. They are not bothered with the glow of the moonlight that
passes through the windows. They are asleep… together. The way they should be.
In SILENCE.

You fit me

Like a hook

Into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

- Margaret Atwood

It is already two
o’ clock in the morning. He is still asleep. The potion that a neighbour had
given me proves to be effective. I believe it also helps that he is again
drunk. A few minutes more and I will do
what I have planned to do. It took me a year to plan for this and hundreds of
sleepless nights to gather courage to execute it.

He stirred. I
stiffened. He turned his back against mine. He is now facing the door of our
small and dirty shack. I stood up and
went slowly to the stinky sink. Amidst the clutter in our sink, I have found
what I need to carry out this plan. It feels cold in my hands. I shuddered. I
don’t want to feel it in my cold hands. My heart feels cold. But it is our
ticket to our freedom. The door to escape hell.

 I stared at him. He
looks big compared to my smallness. His size used to make me feel protected. I
chose him because of my illusion that he was my knight in shining armour who
would make me feel safe. He was the prince in my dreams who would always be
around to shield me from harm. I defied everyone and all the norms just to be
with him. I had even forgotten my own world. I joined his. I had loved him. We
used to love each other. We enjoyed doing things together. We were good
together.

That was ten years
ago. Now I hate him from the deepest recesses of my soul. He has done
everything to shame me. To rip off my dignity. But I have borne it all. The
broken bones, the pulled teeth. A trickle of blood from my lips, which he used
to kiss sweetly, but now have become the receiving end of his knuckles when he
is angry. The black shadows that cloud not only my eyes but also my heart. The
scars that wouldn’t heal – forever etched in my body and soul. All these I have
put up with. I have learned how to feel numb whenever his big hands slap my
face. But one I cannot stomach is when he did what he did to our little girl.

“Tang ina mo
Teban, what are you doing?” “Get off my baby.” “Hayup ka.” “Get as far
away from us as you can.” “Don’t you dare show your face to us.”

But he always comes
back. He enjoys torturing us. He mocked me when he returned as if nothing had
happened.

“Mare, san ang
punta nyo nyang maliit mo?” “Dun sa nanay ko. Nag-away kami ni Mando. Akalain mo ba
namang ipatalo pa sa tupada yung kinita ni Jun kundi ba naman demonyo.”

 One by one our neighbours are slowly waking up. I have to do it now.
I walk slowly back to our cot. My hands are shaking. My feet are shaking. My
entire body is trembling. I cannot do this. But I have to. For the sake of my
little girl. My darling six-year old.

I saw my distorted
reflection on the blade of the itak I am holding. I momentarily stared
at it. I saw a wife whose sufferings, grief and pain are perpetually stamped in
her person.

She must do this
for her daughter’s sake and for her own.

She slowly pulled
down his pants and ended her and her daughter’s tragedy.